Pride and Prejudice in the Global Game
From World Cup hype to (un)rainbow campaigns, football promotes inclusivity while systemic discrimination, misconduct and commercial interests tell a very different story.
Just weeks before the start of the FIFA World Cup across the United States, Canada and Mexico, amid an increasingly chaotic global context, we are still confronting long-standing unresolved issues in queer sport.
The end of spring and early summer are also often referred to as the “rainbow season”, with May 17 and June 28 marking key moments in Pride seasons worldwide. Alongside initiatives such as Football v. Homophobia and Football v. Transphobia, these months of action have increasingly become (almost) global awareness campaigns, helping to make football, and especially male football, more open and more accepting.
In France, the men’s national team has recently decided to stop using rainbow symbols for May 17, the International Day Against Homophobia, Biphobia and Transphobia (IDAHOBIT). What started over a decade ago as a global initiative has always met resistance—yet it also grew in visibility, commitment, and impact.
World Cup Pride and Prejudice
But the fight for LGBTQIA+ rights through sport is not the only one. Historically, sport has been an ally to multiple social struggles: from the fight for the very existence of women’s sport—first led by figures like Alice Milliat—to battles against racism, to the use of sport in combating addiction, enabling social mobility, and raising awareness around accessibility, environment, and inclusion.
And while in some parts of the world these efforts have evolved into tradition, in others their rejection has gained critical mass—expanding backwards, creating paradoxical situations that now force a choice.
This is what happens when visibility becomes inconvenient, because it’s not about symbols anymore.
The French Decision: A Signal, Not an Exception
In March, the French National Football Federation decided it won’t celebrate May 17 anymore, as many players expressed concern, or outright opposition, to playing with rainbow flags, laces, or bands on display during dedicated matches. The decision by the French national team is not just about a symbolic gesture.
May 17, also known as IDAHOBIT, is not an arbitrary date. This day marks a global moment of recognition, visibility, and solidarity. Stepping back from that visibility—especially at institutional level—carries weight far beyond the pitch.
It also lands in a context where, in men’s professional football, openly LGBTQIA+ players remain almost nonexistent. Each coming out still makes headlines.
The most recent case—Ignacio ‘Nacho’ Lago in Argentina—was treated as a historic event.
That alone tells us everything about the environment.
What Gets Punished — and What Gets Ignored
In stadiums worldwide, discriminatory chants continue to echo.
The reactions? Often absent. Inconsistent at best, as the issue persists.
At the institutional level, leadership has shown a similar pattern. Gianni Infantino has embodied this ambiguity—highly visible when aligning with political power, remarkably silent when confronting structural issues within the game.
Institutional Silence and Selective Accountability
“Let me make this clear straight away. For those who might want to say or write something different: Iran will, of course, take part in the 2026 World Cup. And, of course, Iran will play in the USA. The reason is simple: we unite. We must bring people together. That is my responsibility. That is our responsibility,” said Infantino as quoted by ESPN .
This confirmation overrides previous requests by Iranian officials to relocate their fixtures to Mexico and dismisses speculation that other nations, such as Italy, could replace them.
Meanwhile FIFA, as an organization, has repeatedly avoided meaningful confrontation—not only on LGBTQIA+ issues, but across a broader spectrum of social concerns.
What gets punished—and what gets ignored—reveals everything.
One of the latest scandals in male Italian football, involving nights with escorts—often barely of legal age—is not an isolated incident but rather the tip of a much larger iceberg. It exposes a system that loudly proclaims its commitment to human rights, integrity, and honesty, yet repeatedly fails to embody those values in practice.
The case of Manolo Portanova (convicted for sexual violence in both first- and second-instance rulings, with only the final appeal still pending) further highlights the inconsistencies in how misconduct is addressed, and whose actions are ultimately tolerated.
Misconduct: Ignored. Responsibility: Optional.
As highlighted by Nadia Somma Caiati on Il Fatto Quotidiano, AC Reggiana 1919 — the club to which Manolo Portanova belongs — operates under regulations stating that “registered members convicted with a final sentence for crimes against the individual (…) are subject to a ban or suspension of no less than three years,” thus effectively waiting for a definitive ruling before taking action.
Somma Caiati therefore questions where the ethical responsibility of sports clubs lies when one of their players is involved in such serious allegations. “Why does a double conviction fail to produce any real reputational damage, either for the player or for the club that chose to sign him?” – she wonders.
At the same time, the gap between men’s and women’s sport—in funding, visibility, and investment—continues to widen, highlighting deep structural inequalities. And in a telling sign of the broader dysfunction, the only woman currently leading an Italian sports federation has stepped aside, underscoring how fragile and isolated female leadership remains in this environment.
Beneath the surface lies a culture of hypocrisy, where image matters more than accountability. In stark contrast, women’s football in Italy has increasingly become the only source of genuine pride, delivering results, professionalism, and a sense of authenticity that the men’s game seems to have lost.
From Qatar to Today: Nothing Changed, Everything Adapted
Back to rainbow talking, the FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022 was a turning point—though not in the way many hoped.
Rainbow armbands were banned. Symbolic expression was restricted. And the death of journalist Grant Wahl under circumstances that raised global concern.
These were not isolated incidents. They were warnings that, in retrospect, were not heeded.
Normalization Is the Real Problem
The issue doesn’t stop at governing bodies.
It lives in locker rooms, in podcasts, on television, in press conferences. Discriminatory language is normalized, reframed as opinion, dismissed as banter.
But this is not about opinions. It’s about education.
Because when harmful language becomes ambient, it shapes culture. And culture, in turn, shapes what becomes acceptable. This is partly why laws are not keeping pace with old—and new forms of discrimination and violence.
The Economy of Values in Modern Football
We could argue that modern football is driven by three forces: money, fame, and power.
Within this system, values often become part of branding strategy. Visibility is packaged, marketed, and deployed when it aligns with commercial interests.
Rainbow campaigns, diversity statements, inclusion messaging—in modern football, values are branding—until they become inconvenient.
The Pattern Beyond LGBTQIA+ Issues
This dynamic is not isolated.
The same mechanisms apply to racism, Islamophobia, and even the handling of criminal behavior within the sport. The principle is consistent:
- selective outrage
- inconsistent accountability
- strategic silence
Different issues. Same response.
Brazil, Women’s Football, and Structural Violence
As Brazil prepares to host the 2027 Women’s World Cup—the first in South America—the spotlight reveals a troubling reality.
According to Sport & Rights Alliance, what should be a historic milestone is overshadowed by systemic abuse, misogyny, lack of accountability, and violence embedded within the football ecosystem.
In Brazil, football academies have been repeatedly linked to sexual abuse scandals, often with little accountability for those in power. Survivors are left without support, while young players remain exposed to exploitation.
In the women’s game, decades of structural discrimination still cast a long shadow. For nearly 40 years, women were banned from playing football in the country. Today, inequalities persist: underfunded leagues, inadequate facilities, pay gaps, and ongoing harassment.
Journalist Renata Mendonça recently exposed poor conditions within Flamengo’s women’s team—only to become the target of public attacks.
Meanwhile, cases like that of Bruno Fernandes—allowed to return to professional football despite a conviction for murder—highlight a system where accountability remains optional.
If we act against racism, we must act against LGBTQIA+ discrimination. No exceptions.
A System That Chooses When to Care
Across all these examples, a pattern emerges: football does not lack values. It lacks consistency.
Football cannot claim to “unite the world” while choosing which discrimination or conflict to ignore.
So what changes the game is what we refuse to tolerate and what we choose to challenge.